Acute Paranoia
by Lady Emzebel
Summary: "They say the age of Imperialism has come and gone but in reality...countries have just gotten a whole lot sneakier about it. Damn." Cracky Oneshot. Omake: "Berwald, it's quarter-past-two in the morning. What on earth are you doing?"
1. I Claim This Land By Way Of Retail

Title: Acute Paranoia

Rating: T

Pairings: I suppose there's implied France/UK but only if you read between the lines with a magnifying glass.

Warnings: Profane language. Crack. First fanfic for this fandom.

Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine. However, I do own that prompt. :3

A/N: Inspired by and written for the awesome WheatandVioletSkies.

-X3-

"They say the age of Imperialism has come and gone, but in reality...countries have just gotten a whole lot sneakier at it. Damn." Emma Henley

-X3-

"ENGLAND!"

"HYAAAAAH BLOODY HELL WANKER WHAT THE SHITTING FUCK?"

The tea went flying and Arthur jabbed himself with his embroidery needle when er...polar bear...maple leaf...coldcoldbloodycold...Canada! Yeah, Canada came flying through the door—letting it bang thunderously against the wall—and hurled himself onto Arthur's lap.

"What the devil lad...?"

"Arthur! Arthur; Alfred's an empire!" Matthew screeched as he clung desperately to the front of his once-foster father's argyle sweater and sobbed into his shoulder.

Eyes tearing up with the combined pain of his needle-wound and Matthew's unaccustomed and surprisingly substantial weight on his lap, Arthur had to take a few moments to comprehend this outburst.

"What in God's name are you on about boy? Of course Alfred's not..."

"He is! He is he is he is!" Matthew insisted, pounding on Arthur's poor chest with each word. The older nation sighed and consolingly petted Canada's tousled hair.

"Matthew, listen to me, this is an age of business and trade; we don't go around conquering other countries anymore..."

"MCDONALDS IS JUST ONE WAY HE QUIETLY FLAUNTS HIS POWER! NAME ONE COUNTRY—JUST ONE DAMNED COUNTRY—THAT DOESN'T HAVE ONE!"

Okay, so maybe he stumped Arthur with that one.

"HE'S TAKING OVER! HE'S EXERTING HIS INFLUENCE ON US ALL! IT WON'T BE LONG UNTIL HE STARTS SEIZING VITAL REGIONS!"

"Alright alright, calm down..."

"NO I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! TELL ME ARTHUR! TELL ME HOW LONG IT WILL BE BEFORE HE STARTS TAKING VITAL REGIONS! YOU WANNA KNOW WHO'LL BE FIRST? I'LL BE FIRST! I'M RIGHT NEXT DOOR! OUR BOADER IS UNPROTECTED! I HAVE OIL! I HAVE FRESH WATER! I HAVE MAPLE SYRUUUUUP! HE'S GONNA RAPE ME FIRST FOR MY SYRUP! ARTHUUUUUUUR! HEEEEEEELP!"

Oh Christ, there was no soothing the hysterical boy now.

"I DON'T WANNA GET RAPED! HE'S MY BIG BROTHER! MY BIG BROTHER WHO WANTS TO RAPE ME, OHHHH GOOOOOOD! ARTHUUUUUR!"

And then he collapsed, incoherent and wailing, to the floor, gripping Arthur's knees.

Arthur just looked down at him and sighed. Then he got up and limped to his kitchen, dragging the partially comatose...er...Matthew? Yeah...Matthew along behind him as he went to fetch a cleaning cloth for his spilt tea, grumbling all the way.

"A fast food chain is NOT a proper basis for an empire my boy. Bloody hell..."

-X3-

When Matthew refused to let go of the whole Alfred-is-an-empire-dead-set-on-raping-me thing, Arthur was honestly at a loss at what to do.

Therefore, after finally calming the poor lad down after his initial scare, he took a step back and decided to let Matthew get along with his business and keep an eye on him from a distance.

He quickly decided to get involved with his once-charge's problem again when he saw a severely shaky Canada cuddling up to a more-than-pleased Russia.

"You wish to become one with me, da?"

"Am I guaranteed protection?"

That sounded entirely too sexual for Arthur to be comfortable with and so, with an extraordinary steeliness of spine he didn't know he possessed, he seized Matthew's wrist, told Ivan to shoo, and scarpered off, the younger nation safely tucked under one arm.

Call Arthur a bad father if you will, but going to Russia was one line you just did not cross.

"Are you mad, boy? What were you thinking, going to Ivan?"

"Alfie's scared of him," was the only excuse.

"Then carry around a weapon or something if it makes you feel better. Just don't go near Russia again."

-X3-

At the next UN meeting, Canada attended wielding a rather dented, slightly blood-stained hockey stick. Arthur internally facepalmed but reasoned that it was far better than having the boy integrating himself with scary Russian nations.

He changed his mind the very next day when his afternoon tea and crumpets was interrupted by an impromptu visit from America.

"IGGGGGGGGGGGY!"

"CHRIST NOT AGAIN WHY ME MOTHER BRITANNIA?"

And then his lap was full of Alfred F. Jones and Arthur felt a sickening sense of déjà vu whack him square in the gut.

Or that could have been America's knee. Either way...

"What in heaven's name...?"

"Iggggy! Mattie's trying to overtake me!"

"...what?"

"He's jealous that I'm the hero and a great nation to boot and and and his big brother and the better looking one and the brighter shinier one and and and he's not going to take it anymore and he's trying to take me over!"

"...disregarding the fact that half of that rant was merely used to puff up your already over-fed ego you narcissistic wanker...what the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"MATTIEE! HE'S TAKING OVER AMERICA—HAS BEEN FOR THE LAST FEW DECADES OR SO, AND I DIDN'T REALISE UNTIL NOWWW!"

"Alfred, I think your coffee has started rotting away at your brain..."

"KRAFT, HOLLYWOOD, MGM, WARNER BROTHERS, UNITED ARTISTS, THE LIGHT BULB, GINGER ALE, THE BLACKBERRY! WILLIAM SHATNER-CAPTAIN KIRK! 'AMERICA'S SWEETHEART' MARY PICKFORD! ALL CANADIAN! EVEN SUPERMAN, THE AMERICAN ICON OF FREEDOM AND HEROISM, WAS A COLLABERATION! IT'S ALL BEEN A LIE! THE CAKE IS A LIE IGGY! THE CAKE IS A LIIIIIIIE!"

"Oh now really, that's just ridiculous..."

"AND SPEAKING OF CAKE...TIMMY HOES!"

"..I beg your pardon?"

"OHHH THE DONUTS THEY'RE SO GOOD BUT ALL LACED WITH CANUCK COOTIES! SAVE MY FROM THE CANUCK COOTIES IGGGGY!"

"...I think my brain just refused to comprehend what you just said for the safety of my sanity..."

"NOT TO MENTION THE FACT THAT HE'S STARTED CARRYING AROUND A HOCKEY STICK! HE'S GONNA CORNER ME IN THE BATHROOMS AT A UN MEETING, BEAT ME TO DEATH AND RAPE ME! I JUST KNOW IT! HE'S GOT ACCESS TO MY VITAL REGIONS LIKE WOAH IGGY! WE'RE RIGHT NEXT DOOOOR! WHY! WHY IS OUR BORDER SO LONG AND UNPROTECTED! WHYYYYYYY?"

Arthur took a good long look at the nation half hanging off the love seat, clinging pathetically to his waist, and just rolled his eyes.

"It's not Matthew's fault you're so unoriginal..."

Then he leaned over, not disturbing Alfred's death grip in the slightest, and picked up his phone. It took three dial tones before the caller on the other end picked up.

"Bonjour?"

"Oi Frog, are you busy this weekend? Round up Matthew. I think it's time we got together for a little family counselling..."

-X3-

"Does it disturb you at all that we have padded, soundproof rooms with about a million locks on the doors in a UN building?" Tino whispered to his husband as they, along with several other disturbed-looking nations, witnessed England and France locking their two 'sons' together in one such room.

"J'st a bit."

"It's for your own good boys. Just be good and try to duke it out alright?" Arthur called through the door.

"I left lube for you in your pocket mon cher...um...Mathieu! Good luck!"

"THAT IS NOT HELPING, YOU INSUFFERABLE WHORE!"

"SALOPE! PUTAIN! BAISEZ MON CUL!"

"DON'T YOU TALK YOUR FILTHY FRENCH TRIPE TO ME, HUSSY!"

They were deaf to the increasingly girlish screams and squeals issuing from inside the room as both Matthew and Alfred scaled the padded walls, clawing desperately in feverish attempt to escape.

Eventually, both of them realised such efforts were futile and they curled up in opposite corners, shaking and rocking backwards and forwards in terror.

"He's going to rape me, he's going to rape me, oh god, please no, he's going to rape me..."

"He's going to rape me...wait...what? Who's going to rape you?"

"YOU ARE!"

"WHAAAAT?"

True twins to the core, all this was said simultaneously and the two nations were left gaping at each other, slack mouthed.

"Well er..."

"Awkwaaaaaard."

And they left it at that.

-X3-

I absolutely adore the little effed-up familial unit that is US/UK/France/Canada. Seriously.

That being said, good day y'all.


	2. Stalwart Blue 'n Yellow

Acute Paranoia Omake

Title: Stalwart Blue 'n Yellow

Warnings: Definite whiff of Finland/Sweden.

-X3-

Some decisions in Finland's life had been monumental, such as the time he had decided to flee Denmark's house with Sweden and never return. Others were trivial, like what colour socks would he wear today.

Tino believed that deciding between being cocooned within a mountain of blankets with his face smashed into a cushy pillow for another few hours and getting up fell round about the middle of the scale.

Well, normally the decision would be an easy one. Hell, even a bulldozer wouldn't get him out of such a bed, especially after a UN meeting, were the circumstances not so dire. As it was, Tino's wayward husband had yet to come to bed and it was already past two in the morning.

Grumbling, Tino crawled out from under the blankets, snagged his dressing gown from the back of the door, and made his way downstairs.

"Berwald?"

There was an eerie blue glow emitting from the kitchen, and Tino followed it, feeling more apprehensive by the second. He rounded the corner into the kitchen and came across the Swedish nation hulking over a very map-laden kitchen table...

Why the hell did it have little Ikea flags stuck all over it?

"Berwald, it's quarter-past two in the morning. What on earth are you doing? ...and those flags better not have left marks in the table top, or so help me..."

"But ah gotta work on m' master plan."

"Need I emphasize the _ungodliness_ of the hour...wait, what? Your _what_?"

"'M master plan. 'Merica n what'isname are tryin' t' take over the world..."

Tino repressed a shudder, remembering the caterwauls echoing throughout the government building as America and...er...the guy with the Olympics?...Canada! Yeah, as America and Canada tried to claw their way out of the 'special' room with all the padding and the multiple locks on the door. Really, Tino thanked the day Sweden bought little Sealand off Ebay; who knows what might have happened were England and France left to rear impressionable little Peter as they had done poor Aflred and er...Malcolm? Montgomery? Mitchell? Whatvever.

"Berwald, baby, the North Americas—not to mention their parents—are lunatics. Everyone knows that Imperialism pretty much died out with the Great War."

"Course it didn't. 's just sneakier now. Silly 'Merica...silly 'lympic host...they dunno that Ikea is gonna best both Tim Hortons 'n McDonalds...n' Sweden will be great once more..."

"But...doesn't Denmark own Ikea now?"

Berwald seemed to develop quite the twitch upon that passing remark, and perhaps it was best Finland didn't press the matter because direct conversion involving Søren led to things getting broken, unintentionally or not. As it was, already many little Ikea flags met their untimely demise in the Swede's clenching hands at the mention of his southern axe-wielding neighbour, and Tino would very much prefer that their furniture was spared the same fate.

"'S a _Dutch_-registered company owned by Kamp'r. Not the same thing."

"Ohhh."

Berwald started to pace around the table, much like a vulture circling a dying wildebeest. Tino began to feel quite inwardly alarmed; it was not like his husband to be so radically fanatical.

"'N ev'ry country there'll be 'n Ikea. The retail buildings will dominate their surroundings, painting the nations stalwart blue 'n yellow. Germany is already m' bitch...and most of the rest of Europe is within m' grasp as well...soon Ukraine will bow to me...and Romania and Ireland and New Zealand! The rest of the world'll follow!"

He suddenly stopped and grabbed hold of Tino's shoulders, pulling the shorter nation in for a harsh, if not rather chaste, kiss on his forehead.

"M'wife...y' shall b' m'Queen. Yuh will rule by m' side...over m'Emp're."

Sweden's eyes shone with a manic gleam behind his glasses, his breath coming a little faster and strained, almost aroused. Meanwhile, Tino took a short moment to wonder how he could have so wrong about his steadfast lover all these centuries.

To think he'd actually thought Berwald was mentally stable...

"Do I _really_ want to know what's under the napkin?" Tino sighed, wearily indicating the concealed, oddly-shaped lump sprouting out of the Scandinavian region on the map. Sweden inclined his head, the blue glow of his Ikea sign making his glasses flash sinisterly, and whipped off the aforementioned napkin with an uncharacteristic flourish.

"'S our castle. Y' like?"

Finland just gaped at the intricate model and facepalmed. Hard.

"Berwald you daft idiot, I just wanted the kitchen renovated! Not a whole flippin' palace!"

-X3-

Yes, my Finland is not a moe-pushover. He is a badass MoFo with a cute-'n-fluffy exterior. Deal with it.

*headdesk* Jjdhfjsgslhgsbgksklfpalandjak(wtf?Icelandic-volcano-name-much?) I hate typing in Berwaldian.

Lemme know if I have typos m' lovelies. Ta ta.


End file.
